


Way Back When (All the World Was Ours)

by hollybennett123



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Anal, Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mild Angst, Porn with Feelings, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Rimming, Rough Sex, Seduction, Sexual Roleplay, Shapeshifting, Size Difference, Tenderness, Utter Filth, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 06:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18805405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollybennett123/pseuds/hollybennett123
Summary: “You needn’t look so surprised,” Loki says, looking and sounding every bit the way he did half a lifetime ago. His exaggerated eye roll only adds to the effect. “You’ve seen me change forms countless times, have you not?”“Never like this,” Thor says softly, still stunned.Loki looks quietly pleased with himself, apparently not expecting his little trick to hold Thor so rapt. The smile has returned, the one that speaks of mischief, and it’s never changed in all these years: it’s so familiar a sight that it makes Thor ache with some nameless thing. Nostalgia, perhaps. Longing, though he’s not certain what it is he yearns for.Loki steps near enough to him that their knees almost touch. Blinks down at him innocently and chews at his bottom lip as if nervous, playing at coy. “Do you like seeing me like this?”Thor swallows. His hands grip at the arms of his chair, fingers flexing into the upholstery.Ah, he thinks, the yearning now twisting into a traitorous flutter of arousal in his belly.Perhaps that.





	Way Back When (All the World Was Ours)

**Author's Note:**

> While there’s no actual underage sex in this fic, they’re essentially roleplaying as if one of them (Loki) isn’t of age yet. I envision Loki as appearing to be the Asgardian equivalent of mid-teens here, but it’s not actually specified. 
> 
> I first started writing this shortly prior to Infinity War coming out last year, but ended up putting it on hold for a while to focus on other fics as it somehow felt like it might fit better post-Endgame and I couldn’t quite make it work. I’m now obsessed with this idea again and have a lot of ~feelings~ right now so here we are! As is the way with most of my fics: absolute filth, but came out cuter than it had any right to. The angst is brief and the tenderness abundant.

So many things, for better or for worse, have changed.

The modest cabin Thor now calls home is a long way from Asgard in the figurative sense as much as the literal, but as time goes on it is finally beginning to feel like somewhere he belongs. Like _theirs_.

Loki sits at the window seat and sips from a steaming mug of herbal tea, engrossed in the book he has spread atop his lap. Thor looks at his brother often just to assure himself that he is real, returned to him whole and healthy again when all had felt hopeless. The fates have taken much from them, but they have been kind to them in turn and Thor dare not question his good fortune: it is enough, and he is glad.

Nevertheless, he finds himself exhausted at times, worn down at the edges. He slots another log into the hearth, the roaring fire within keeping the autumnal chill at bay. Sighs wearily as he sinks into the armchair alongside it and gazes unseeing into the flames.

“Whatever are you brooding about now, Thor?” Loki murmurs distractedly. He doesn’t bother to lift his eyes from his book, apparently sensing Thor’s mood without the need to witness it.

“I’m not _brooding_ ,” Thor retorts, though he is. “I’m thinking.”

Loki absent-mindedly licks his thumb and uses it to turn to the next page, his eyes scanning over the text upon it. “Oh?” he says. “And what might you be thinking about?”

Truth be told, Thor isn’t entirely certain he can articulate it. There’s a swirling mass of thoughts in his head, most of them best ignored; things they’ve spoken of freely and others which remain unsaid. He exhales slowly, watching the flames leap at the edge of his vision.

“So much is different to before,” Thor settles on eventually, and it’s as succinct a summary as any. When he thinks of the chaos of recent years, the devastation and loss and the aching chasm of their shared grief, it seems utterly inadequate. It matters not: Loki of all people will understand his meaning. “What I mean to say is _—_ sometimes I find I still have much to get used to.”

“It’ll come,” Loki says, kinder than Thor is expecting. “In time.” He falls silent for a moment, looking thoughtful.

Setting his book and his tea to one side, Loki uncurls himself from his reading nook and gets to his feet; crosses the room to stand a short way before Thor, a suggestive glint in his eye that bodes very well for the evening ahead of them.

Intrigued, Thor sits back in his chair, regarding him warmly. Loki is nothing if not unpredictable, and Thor appreciates the distraction.

“On the contrary, brother,” Loki says, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a way that only ever precedes mischief. “I think you will find I have hardly changed one bit.”

It’s always a fascinating thing to watch Loki shapeshift, the shimmering pulse of seidr and the ease with which he wields it. The way he transitions so effortlessly into a whole new way of carrying himself. But this time he is _—_ it’s just _—_

“You needn’t look so surprised,” Loki says, looking and sounding every bit the way he did half a lifetime ago. His exaggerated eye roll only adds to the effect. “You’ve seen me change forms countless times, have you not?”

Seeing Loki stand barefoot before him, clad only in leggings and a tunic both unmistakably Asgardian in their tailoring, memories of their adolescence hit Thor with a force that feels like a physical blow.

“Never like this,” Thor says softly, still stunned.

Loki looks quietly pleased with himself, apparently not expecting his little trick to hold Thor so rapt. The smile has returned, the one that speaks of mischief, and it’s never changed in all these years: it’s so familiar a sight that it makes Thor ache with some nameless thing. Nostalgia, perhaps. Longing, though he’s not certain what it is he yearns for.

Loki steps near enough to him that their knees almost touch. Blinks down at him innocently and chews at his bottom lip as if nervous, playing at coy. “Do you like seeing me like this?”

Thor swallows. His hands grip at the arms of his chair, fingers flexing into the upholstery. _Ah_ , he thinks, the yearning now twisting into a traitorous flutter of arousal in his belly. _Perhaps that_.

“Loki,” he admonishes when he finds his voice again, though he’s smiling as he does so. “Behave yourself.”

It’s nothing more than a jest, surely, and as improper as any other he’d expect of his brother’s wicked tongue.

“I’ve seen the way you watch me, brother, when you think no one is looking,” Loki says sweetly, undeterred from his little performance. He trails the tips of his fingers over Thor’s cheek, his eyes sliding down to gaze hungrily upon the bulge between Thor’s spread thighs where his cock begins to stir in his trousers. “Am I not old enough, now, that you might lie with me? When I touch myself at night, alone in my bedchambers, I think only of you.”

Loki’s hand continues its slow descent, his fingers skimming over Thor’s chest and stomach, down and down and _—_

 _—_ frowning, Thor captures Loki’s wrist, giving it a warning squeeze. Loki gives him a defiant look, near pouting with disappointment. Gods, he looks and acts like such a perfect replica of himself at that age that it’s uncanny: pretty beyond reason, vibrant and unencumbered by loss. Thor feels sick with lust at the sight of him.

“ _Loki,_ ” he says gruffly. “Stop this foolishness.”

Tugging his wrist free from Thor’s grip, Loki thins his mouth, exasperated but fond. Although he makes no move to change back to his usual form, when Thor looks into his eyes now he sees the man who has aged over a millennium alongside him.

“It’s still _me_ , Thor,” Loki says, and there’s a subtle shift in the way he stands that makes him suddenly appear so much older. “And if you might recall,” he gestures down at himself, “even like this, we were hardly naïve.”

To this, Thor can offer no argument. Already they had spent sleepless nights in shared beds tentatively exploring one another’s bodies, even if it had yet to go further. Still, that was then and this is now, and Thor knows full well that he should put a stop to this. He stares at Loki’s mouth, his bottom lip reddened and wet where he’s bitten at it, and the enticing flush of pink in Loki’s cheeks. The hopeful longing in his eyes as he waits for Thor to decide.

 _Or_ , Thor thinks, his resolve wavering to the point of near non-existence: he should at least make a half-hearted attempt at resisting before he inevitably yields and they do this anyway. He always was helpless in the face of temptation, and one face in particular has been his downfall for as long as he can remember.

“I do recall,” Thor says, his attempt at sounding stern unconvincing even to his own ears. “But look at you. Look at _me_. Loki, this is utterly depraved.”

Loki’s slow, dangerous smile suggests that this is exactly the point. Pressing closer still, he places a knee on the chair between Thor’s parted thighs, one hand on each armrest. He very carefully doesn’t touch him at all, and Thor wants to drag him bodily into his lap all the more.

“Do you want me to stop?” Loki asks, the glittering green of his eyes captivating in the firelight.

Thor could say _yes_. He could say it so easily, knowing without a doubt that Loki would change back, laughing. That he could take Loki to bed regardless, just as he would any other night, with nothing more said on the matter.

“No,” says Thor, because he is _weak_. “Brother. I want you to kiss me.”

Visibly relieved, Loki slips effortlessly back into character and climbs atop Thor’s lap in a convincing display of youthful eagerness. Surging up against Thor, he fits their mouths together with a breathy moan, entangling his fingers in Thor’s hair.

Thor’s stomach roils with the wrongness of it, yet it mixes somewhere along the way with desire to become a dizzying headrush of _want_. Loki breaks the kiss first and Thor finally takes the time to take him in properly, to really look at him up close. Even clothed, he looks so slight and unblemished under the breadth of Thor’s battle-scarred hands that he hardly dares touch him, his hands barely hovering over Loki’s waist.

“Thor,” Loki reminds him gently, sliding his mouth over Thor’s in a way that’s maddeningly arousing. He takes Thor’s hands in his own, pressing them firmly to his waist in reassurance. “It is only a game.”

It is only a game, shared only between the two of them, and so Thor takes a deep breath and allows himself to relax into it. Sitting Loki back in his lap to put space between them, he drags his gaze over him from head to toe and allows him to see the genuine hunger he feels.

“You said you touch yourself and think of me,” Thor says, picking up the fantasy Loki began to weave for them earlier. “ _Little brother_. Is that true?”

While Loki has long been skilled at playing a part, it coming to him naturally and without effort, Thor has never thought of himself as a credible actor. It’s always felt uncomfortable, too close to deception, pretending to be anyone other than himself, even when it’s all in the name of good fun. Now though, it’s all too easy to inhabit this role; this alternate version of himself who is _—_ as ever _—_ too easily seduced by Loki’s charms.

“I do,” Loki admits. He presses a hand to Thor’s chest, where he can surely feel the keen pounding of his heartbeat. He fits his mouth to Thor’s ear and lowers his voice as if sharing a secret. “Even asleep, I desire this, brother. Every wet dream I’ve ever had has been about you.”

“Fuck, Loki,” Thor says in a breathless rush. His own Loki has never been so bold as to confess to such a thing. Apparently this one is bolder.

“Do you think of me often?” Loki asks. He strokes Thor’s hair behind his ear; places a lingering kiss to his cheek and another to his mouth.

“Always,” Thor says softly. “I cannot help myself. I take myself in hand each night and imagine how it would feel if you were to permit me between your thighs. I _—_ thought it was merely a fantasy, that you couldn’t possibly want this of me too.”

Loki looks enchanted. It is rare that Thor leaves him speechless.

“And now you know I am willing?” Loki says at last.

“Sometimes I want you so badly I can hardly bear it,” Thor tells him, little more than a whisper.

It’s the truth, always has been, and the way his fingers tremble slightly as he fits his palm around the back of Loki’s neck is genuine. Despite the many and varied things they have done together within and outside of the bedroom, this foolish game has him more worked up than he can remember being in some time, his pulse already thrumming in anticipation.

He draws Loki in for a kiss and Loki comes easily, parting his lips with a soft little gasp so Thor can explore his mouth. Winding his arms around Thor’s neck, Loki cants his hips forward and grinds down against him. The pressure is exquisite but all too fleeting; Thor takes Loki by the hips, helps him set a rhythm. Rubs right up against him with the swell of his cock where it tents his trousers, letting Loki feel how hard he is for him already.

“Take me to bed,” Loki urges, his eyes wide and imploring. “Teach me how we can please one another.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice. Thor grips at his thighs and stands up with him just to prove how easily he can do so. He’s always been able to fuck Loki up against a wall with little difficulty, but like this? Norns, he could sit him on his cock right here; they wouldn’t even need the wall.

Loki’s breath hitches at the way their bodies fit together and Thor hoists his legs higher around his waist, feeling shockingly weak at the knees when Loki writhes against him, moaning.

“Stop that,” Thor grits out, carrying Loki towards the bedroom.

“Make me,” Loki retorts, breathing hotly against Thor’s cheek. He’s far too amused with himself, and some dark part of Thor wants to wreck him all the more for being such a wanton little cock tease.

They pass through the door’s threshold and into the bedroom, where Thor deposits Loki on the bed vigorously enough that he bounces on the mattress. Quite whose bed this is supposed to be in their little fantasy he has no idea, but the thought that this room could be anything other than theirs in combination is laughable, their belongings intermingled into one gloriously mis-matched collection. He hadn’t fully realised until now quite how hopelessly intertwined their lives have once again become, and how right it feels that it should be so.

Loki reels Thor in keenly as he crawls atop him, laughing delightedly as Thor rubs their noses together and peppers kisses across his jaw. He goes to slip one hand beneath Thor’s t-shirt, but Thor is faster: chuckling, he places each of Loki’s narrow wrists over his head in turn and holds them there with one hand as he eases his weight down against him and begins to suck and bite at Loki’s neck where he’s most sensitive. It’s one of the first moves Thor ever learned when it came to pleasuring him, and some things never change.

“Oh, _gods_ ,” Loki groans in a reaction that’s wholly genuine, pressing his hips up into Thor’s, seeking friction. “Thor.”

Thor tightens his hold on Loki’s wrists and sucks a mark beneath Loki’s ear, pinning him down with ease as Loki shudders beneath him. Rolls his hips against him in languorous thrusts, hinting at what’s to come.

Only when Loki is incoherent at the onslaught of pleasure does Thor finally relent, pulling away to leave Loki in a panting sprawl. Feeling Loki’s eyes on him, Thor moves to sit at the edge of the bed where he slowly peels his t-shirt off over his head and tosses it to the floor. Loki hums a satisfied sound from behind him at the sight of so much bared skin; presses up close and slides his hands around Thor’s broad middle, the bulk of muscle and the layer of fat at his belly where he’s still soft around the edges, so he can rest his chin on Thor’s shoulder.

“Let me suck you, brother,” Loki murmurs – coaxing, cajoling – as if Thor will take any convincing at all. “I’ve oft wondered how you taste.”

“A little thing like you?” Thor says, closing his eyes and tilting his head to one side as Loki nuzzles against his neck. “I don’t know if you can handle it.”

“I _can_ ,” Loki says, petulant at the insinuation that he cannot. He draws his hand over Thor’s stomach, following the trail of hair down until the tips of his fingers disappear beneath Thor’s waistband. “Let me try.” His fingers slip lower, skimming over the base of his cock.

“If you like,” Thor says promptly, and gets an amused little sound in return.

Loki moves around him, though not down onto his knees as Thor expects. Instead, he sits himself in Thor’s lap again, straddling his thighs; unfastens Thor’s trousers and draws out his cock, loosely encircling it with his fingers. Trails gentle presses of his lips from Thor’s jaw to his mouth, where he kisses him deeply and with purpose.

The hand at Thor’s cock pulls slowly up the length of the shaft, squeezing gently to make Thor groan. Licking provocatively over Thor’s bottom lip, Loki eases his foreskin down with gentle fingers; traces the soft pad of his little finger across the leaking head, delicately teasing back and forth along the slit until Thor can hardly breathe and his trousers are damp with pre-spend.

Loki ends his teasing by bringing his finger to his mouth. As if tasting Thor for the first time, he sucks on it almost shyly before pulling it free with a wet _pop_.

“You are going to be the death of me,” Thor mutters, taking Loki by the chin and looking him in the eye. Loki, despite his best efforts, looks delighted at this news.

Only then does Loki clamber down to kneel between Thor’s thighs, his knees thudding down onto the hardwood in his haste. His eyes flit upwards to catch Thor’s gaze as if assuring himself of his attention. Thor, duly captivated, cannot imagine how he could possibly be looking anywhere else.

Loki begins with experimental licks to the shaft, little jolts of pleasure accompanying each tantalising drag of his tongue. He sucks on the head, cheeks hollowing, before letting Thor’s cock slip free to draw a wet stripe over his cheek.

Thor smooths his hair back for him with a rumbling sound of satisfaction as Loki takes him into his mouth again, his cautious experimentation quickly falling away as he loses himself in the feel of it. Thor’s cock catches in his throat and unsticks, makes him gag, obscene and wet and unbearably arousing. Loki gives a delighted hum, pressing the heel of his hand between his legs, and tries again until he can take Thor’s length fully, his breath coming in sharp little gusts where his nose is pressed against Thor’s belly.

“Loki,” Thor murmurs in wonder. He goes to say something else, he’s not certain what, but finds himself speechless when Loki begins to suck him in earnest, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock to stroke him in tandem with the slide of his lips along the shaft.

Positioned as they are, Thor can’t discern enough to be certain, but suspects that if viewed otherwise he’d see the bulge of his cock in Loki’s throat each time he presses deep to fill it. The thought of it makes something dangerous rise in him, a gut-punch of arousal that makes him feel on the edge of losing control. He strokes Loki’s hair, breathes through it. Focuses on the exquisite caress of Loki’s mouth.

Out of breath, Loki eventually pulls away, though he’s forced to lick at his lips to break the string of saliva that connects them. He looks lust-drunk and happy, though his jaw must surely be aching by now.

“Am I doing it right?” Loki asks. His lashes are wet with the effort of taking Thor’s cock. His mouth looks thoroughly and gorgeously _fucked_.

Thor has to fight the urge to laugh at the way Loki’s perfect imitation of the blushing ingenue starts to fall apart the moment he has the opportunity to show off. Tamping down a smile, he rakes his fingernails over Loki’s scalp, rubbing his thumb over the shell of Loki’s ear.

“Yes,” Thor says. “Little brother,” he adds, just to see Loki’s hot flush of arousal deepen further as he leans into Thor’s touch. “You’re doing it perfectly.”

The praise has an encouraging effect and Loki redoubles his efforts, his mouth sliding over Thor's length in a rush of liquid pleasure. Loki works a hand inside his leggings, fumbling and desperate, and seconds later comes with a muffled cry that vibrates along the length of Thor’s cock. He continues sucking at Thor clumsily even as he’s overcome with pleasure; a wet stain darkens the crotch of his leggings, the fabric clinging to his softening cock.

It’s too much, the sight of him coming apart so prettily combined with his talented mouth.

“Fuck,” Thor growls, holding Loki’s hair in his fist as he thrusts up to meet the sultry heat of his mouth and the exquisite grip of this throat. “ _Fuck_ , Loki,” and spends himself as Loki works to swallow him down, still shivery with the aftershocks of his own orgasm where he kneels upon the floor.

Slowly, Loki sits back on his heels, letting Thor’s cock slip free. He opens his mouth as he draws his thumb delicately over his bottom lip, cleaning himself up; very deliberately lets Thor see his tongue painted white with come before he swallows it down smugly and wipes the spit from his chin.

“Get up here,” Thor says, and Loki swiftly moves to stand on unsteady feet. “Can I take this off?” Thor asks, running the hem of Loki’s tunic between his fingers.

Loki nods, lifting his arms, allowing Thor to tug it off over his head. Thor drinks in the sight of him, his body so familiar and yet so different from the one he sees every day.

With Loki stood between his thighs, Thor ducks his head to press a kiss to his flat belly. Slips his waistband down lower to mouth at the jut of his hipbones, working Loki’s leggings down bit by bit until they’re around his thighs and he’s completely exposed.

“What’s this?” Thor says in mock disapproval, drawing his fingers through the slickness on Loki’s skin where he spilled on himself. “I wanted to bring you off myself.”

“I couldn’t last,” Loki says, gasping as Thor palms at his arse and lets his fingers wander further back, rubbing the wet pad of his middle finger over Loki’s tight hole. “ _Yes_ ,” Loki hisses. He clutches at Thor’s shoulders for balance, spreading his legs wider apart so Thor can get at him. “Thor, please.”

“We can’t,” Thor says earnestly, fairly certain this is the part in the game where he’s supposed to voice his objections, even as he’s internally deciding how best to pound him so thoroughly he’ll still feel it tomorrow when he fucks him again. “You are still too young to have me in that way.”

He slips the very tip of his finger inside him, only for a second. Just a fleeting tease of sensation. Loki looks as if he might topple over sideways if Thor weren’t holding onto him.

“Please,” Loki says again, trying his very best to take Thor deeper when Thor penetrates him again. “I _need_ it, I need you inside me. I know you’ll take good care of me, brother.”

Gods, Thor loves it when Loki gets like this, whatever the context: desperate and wild for it, so different from the imperious, carefully-controlled way he presents himself to the rest of the universe. He’d let Thor put anything in him and beg for more, though Thor hopes his fingers will suffice for now.

Dragging two fingers through the mess of come between Loki’s legs _—_ as fine a way of slicking them up as any _—_ he presses them halfway inside him without further preamble. Watches as Loki’s mouth drops open on a gasp, eyelashes fluttering.

“What of my reputation?” Thor muses. “Surely it would ruin me, were anyone to find out.”

“I can keep a secret,” Loki says, his voice breaking on the final syllable as Thor curls his fingers and rubs up inside him right where he wants it most. It’s endlessly amusing watching Loki try to maintain the conversation while Thor plays idly with his hole. “If you fuck me, I _—_ fuck, oh _fuck_ , _Thor_ _—_ I swear I’ll never, _ever_ tell.”

“Do you promise?”

“I _—_ ah, mm?” Loki says nonsensically, which is precisely the answer Thor was aiming for.

Loki lets himself be manhandled however Thor pleases, so he arranges Loki on his front, face down on the sheets. Divesting him of his leggings, pausing only briefly to strip himself fully naked too, he holds Loki down and licks him until he’s nearly sobbing.

“Brother,” Loki says imploringly, crying out as Thor’s tongue penetrates him again. He tries to rub himself off against the sheets, needy little pulses of his hips. Thor holds him down harder, licks over him with the flat of his tongue. “ _Please_.”

“Hush,” Thor says, though he is admittedly beginning to run out of patience himself.

He takes a moment just to spread Loki open so he can look at his pretty hole, glossed with spit and his own come. Clenching, desperate to be filled. Enthralled, Thor presses two fingers inside him to the hilt to watch the way he opens up so sweetly, both groaning in unison as Thor sinks so easily into the breathtaking heat of Loki’s body. He parts them slightly, stretching him, and rubs his thumb around the rim to make Loki whimper.

“Have you any oil?” Thor asks him, quelling all movement so Loki might actually answer him coherently.

“Wherever would I get such a thing, Thor?” Loki says innocently, his voice muffled where he’s buried his face in his arms. He isn’t so innocent in the way he arches his back and undulates his hips, trying to fuck himself on Thor’s fingers. “I’m sure you must have some to hand, no?”

Thor fumbles with and nearly drops the vial of oil that suddenly appears in his palm.

“Not to worry,” Thor says, the surprise of it making him laugh aloud. How very clever. “It appears I’ve found some.”

“Good,” Loki says distractedly, pushing up on his hands and rocking back into him with impatience. Thor swats at him lightly for his trouble, a short stinging slap on his behind, and Loki sinks bonelessly onto the bed with a delighted hum.

“Stop it,” Thor warns him. “Let me see to you properly.”

He wets his fingers with oil then changes his mind; pours it directly onto Loki’s hole, making Loki shudder. Slips his fingers inside, deep and then deeper still. Loki is intensely, lushly wet as a result, enough so that the sloppy, heat-soaked feel of him makes Thor’s cock throb with the urge to sheath himself inside with each thrust of his hand.

With neither of them inclined to delay matters further, Thor opens him up with a perfunctory bluntness; a means to an end, their game be damned. Loki will be more than capable of taking him like this. Satisfied, Thor wipes his fingers clean of oil and sits himself back against the headboard, pulling Loki atop his thighs.

“Like this, little brother,” Thor says, one warm hand against Loki’s cheek, “so you can set the pace to start.” Loki wriggles a little in Thor’s lap, Thor’s cock rubbing up against his navel. Thor groans, grinding unthinkingly against him for a moment. “Norns, Loki.”

“Are you going to be gentle with me?” Loki asks him with a smirk he can’t quite hide, stroking along the imposing bulk of Thor’s biceps and mapping their size with delicate hands. “It’s just _—_ well, I am quite small, and you are very, _very_ big.”

Sometimes he wields words more devastatingly than any blade; Thor tugs a hand over his own cock helplessly with a bitten-back grunt of frustration, quite desperate now to get inside him. He skips straight over the most obvious answer, knowing exactly what Loki wants to hear instead. Sometimes, stroking Loki’s ego brings him as much satisfaction as stroking anywhere else, and Thor always intends to satisfy.

“I will do my best,” Thor says quietly, his hands at Loki’s middle again. “But when I look at you, I worry I might not be able to control myself.”

He exhales shakily and lets a frisson of lightning leak from his fingertips just to really play the part, blue sparks dancing across Loki’s skin for a moment before vanishing. It’s just enough of a shock to make Loki gasp, swaying into him. His cock jerks and dribbles precome onto Thor’s hip. He looks at Thor through eyes that are hazy with arousal, momentarily lost for words to Thor’s immense satisfaction.

“Your restraint has been admirable so far, big brother,” Loki says at last.

“You’re testing me considerably,” Thor growls, nipping his teeth at the tips of Loki’s fingers to make him moan.

Unable to wait any longer, Loki positions Thor where he needs to and sinks down onto his cock at a painstaking pace, his lips parted and his eyelashes fluttering as he adjusts to Thor’s considerable girth. His waist is so tiny under the span of Thor’s hands that it makes Thor’s cock jerk inside him, so hard now he feels lightheaded with it. By the gods, he might be going to Hel for this, but if Loki is right there alongside him for his part in this madness he cannot bring himself to worry overmuch.

Loki begins to ride him at a slow tempo Thor quickly takes control of, pushing his hips up to meet him as his hands at Loki’s hips drag him downward. Loki drapes his arms around Thor’s neck with a shocky little moan and lets himself be moved as Thor wills it, lets himself be _used_ , his cock hard and rubbing up against Thor’s stomach to leave wet smears.

“How do I feel?” Loki whispers.

“Like you were made for me,” Thor says. “You’re perfection.”

Loki narrows his eyes at him, pleased and embarrassed and seemingly unsure whether he should admonish Thor for the sentiment or thank him. He settles for neither and kisses Thor instead, whining softly against his mouth as Thor’s cock fills him in smooth strokes. He’s always so sensitive inside, so responsive to stimulation that his every reaction to Thor’s cock caressing somewhere deep within him is as intoxicating as the way he feels.

Loki makes a soft sound of surprise when Thor lifts him bodily off his cock and tumbles him over onto his back, though he readily spreads his legs for him as Thor fits himself between them. He grabs at Thor’s shoulders, urging him on.

“Thor,” Loki gasps as Thor drives the length of his cock back inside him, raking his nails over Thor’s back in encouragement. “Thor, Thor, _oh._ ”

He entwines his fingers in Thor’s hair, tugs at it with each thrust in a way that goes straight to Thor’s cock and only makes him work his hips harder. Thor presses his weight into him as Loki wraps his legs around his waist, pressing his face to Loki’s neck where he smells divine; sets his teeth to the muscle there and sucks until Loki’s skin is dappled purple.

“Brother, you mustn’t _—_ mustn’t leave so many marks. Someone might _see_.”

“If you think you are going anywhere but my bedchambers for the next week,” Thor growls against his throat, jostling him on his cock, “then you are very much mistaken. I intend to keep you right here in my bed, seated on my cock where you belong.”

“Oh,” Loki says, quite stunned.

“That’s a promise, by the way,” Thor murmurs laughingly against Loki’s ear so that Loki _—_ _his_ Loki _—_ will know that he intends on following through with this oath long after this evening’s game is over.

Loki squirms with satisfaction beneath him, very much approving. Thor takes the opportunity to bend down and suck at one of Loki’s nipples, thoroughly wetting it before moving to the other. With a sharp intake of breath, Loki tenses, reaching for his cock to bring himself to completion.

Thor bats his hand away; props himself up on one arm, still thrusting, to seize it for himself. He strokes Loki quickly, short tugs within the heated clasp of his fingers until Loki gasps, coming all over himself as Thor fucks him through it.

“Fuck,” Thor pants, quickening his pace. He pulls back, hauling Loki’s legs over his shoulders to bend him nearly in half. “Loki, brother, let me spend inside you.”

“Yes,” Loki breathes, pulling Thor into a kiss that’s less a press of lips and more open-mouthed panting against one another. He’s tighter for having come, oversensitised to the point that he shivers slightly each time Thor sinks inside him fully. “Yes, fuck, wherever you want.”

Thor comes _hard_ , thighs shaking as he buries himself inside him and spends in breathtakingly intense pulses, pleasure singing in his veins until he can think of and feel nothing else. Still dazed, he separates them slowly, a trickle of come sliding out as his cock slips free fully. He runs the tip of his prick through it, painting wet over Loki’s hole just to admire how filthy and decadent it looks. Scoops up his come and nudges the head back inside, fucking his spending deep with a sigh of satisfaction as he begins to soften.

“Stop that, you revolting beast,” Loki mutters, amused, making a half-hearted attempt to push Thor away that would be far more convincing if he weren’t rocking his hips up to meet Thor’s cock. Thor grins down at him, pushing his hips forth so slowly and with such precision that Loki’s toes curl. “Thor, must you make such a mess?”

The tone suggests his present-day Loki has returned, even if he still appears as his younger self. Pulling out carefully, Thor brushes Loki’s sweat-damp hair from his face and places a kiss to his forehead before rolling off him to lie side by side.

“Forgive my curiosity,” Thor asks after a few beats of silence, “but how long exactly had you been planning this?”

Gods, he can’t feel his legs, blissfully relaxed in body and mind.

“A while,” Loki says nonchalantly. “It seemed like as good a time as any to bring it up.”

He examines his fingernails with a casual insouciance that can only mean he’s wanted this dreadfully and for some time, only now finding the courage to ask for it. How silly he is, thinks Thor. How remarkable. He smiles, shaking his head, but Loki merely rolls his eyes and ignores him.

“If it isn’t too much trouble,” Thor asks him gently, “would you mind changing back?”

To say it’s been enjoyable is an understatement, but it’s starting to feel a little odd conversing with Loki when he looks one way and sounds another.

With a shrug, Loki calls upon his seidr in a lazy, post-coital kind of way and allows his familiar form to slowly wash over him from head to toe. He smooths his hair down and presses his knees together demurely, all long legs and utterly beautiful still. For a moment Thor can do nothing but stare at him, besotted, reluctant to look away.

Nevertheless, the need to sleep catches up with Thor all too quickly. Yawning, he draws a hand over his face, feeling drowsy and gloriously content all at once. He really ought to get some rest, a full and proper night’s sleep. It’s all too easy to allow himself to be pulled in too many directions at once.

“Sometimes I feel as if I have aged centuries in a matter of years,” he admits quietly, looking to Loki where they lie shoulder-to-shoulder. “When did we get so old?”

Loki scoffs. “We aren’t _old_.” He looks up at the ceiling, pensive for a moment, his expression softening. “Just _—_ older.”

“And yet somehow none the wiser,” Thor grins.

Loki makes a disapproving noise. “Speak for yourself, brother.”

Thor looks at Loki where he lies sprawled upon the bed _—_ in glorious disarray, his smile self-satisfied _—_ and adores him now more than ever.

“Ah, yes,” Thor says seriously, trying his best not to laugh. Loki’s knees are bruised, too idle as always to bother healing them. He undoubtedly has come in his hair, which he’ll discover and complain about relentlessly when he attempts to run a brush through it later. “You certainly look very wise.”

Loki narrows his eyes and kicks at him gently, knocking their ankles together in lazy reprisal. He looks thoughtful for a moment and then rolls over, moving to lie half-atop Thor with a fluid grace that makes Thor think that he hasn’t quite shaken off the memory of his younger self: a little of something older, a little of something new.

“Thor,” Loki says mildly, “do shut up,” and steals Thor’s silence with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Endgame whom????


End file.
